


Tattoo Parlour

by kybusan



Series: 50 sentences [4]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Starrk x Grimmjow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:08:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28270683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kybusan/pseuds/kybusan
Summary: Grimmjow walks into a tattoo-parlour to finally get rid of the gothic six on his back.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Coyote Starrk
Series: 50 sentences [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/857800
Kudos: 4





	Tattoo Parlour

"I bet you're one of those liking it hard and fast. Or am I wrong?"

Grimmjow looks down on the guy kneeling between his legs. Drowsy, almost disinterested grey eyes look up. But then thin lips stretch into a knowing smile as Grimmjow's hand grabs for dark, brown, chin-long locks and lightly pulls on them. 

"Ah, hit it spot on," the guy purrs and slowly stands up. He puts the pencil he deliberately has let fall a few seconds ago right beside Grimmjow who's sitting shirtless on a mixture of an old barber-shop chair and modern dentist patient's chair.

"That's the problem with you youngsters. All those muscles, all that power and strength. And for what? The stamina of a short-distance runner!" 

He is leaning into Grimmjow, obviously is teasing him. He can't be that much older, Grimmjow muses. Maybe seven, ten years, but not much more. 

"Afraid you're not getting it up in time, old man?", Grimmjow asks with a low snicker, slightly backing off from the other. How has it come to this? All Grimmjow did, is walking into a tattoo shop and asking about the possibility to cover-up his tattoo on his back. And the guy sitting, or more like lying, on an old shabby sofa in the corner of the shop did not seem too enthusiastic about a new customer. So much so, Grimmjow almost has left the shop again. But somehow he's ended up on that chair anyway, half-naked and semi-hard. 

The guy's hands suddenly find their way on Grimmjow's thighs and let them wander up, up, and up. Grimmjow slightly twitches upon feeling curious fingers trailing along the waistband of his pants and sucks in some air as two fingers dive down the fabric. Not because the hands of the shop-owner are cold, they are indeed warm and surprisingly gently. Damn it, has it been that long he's been touched?

"Hmm, interesting," the guy murmurs amused and locks his eyes with Grimmjow's.

It looks as if that light grey colour of his iris reflects Grimmjow's own blue colour. Or, maybe, somewhere behind him there's a blue light-source, but Grimmjow suddenly feels almost enchanted by that look and can't let go of it. He's leaning further back to have a better view, and he feels his heartbeat getting stronger. And there is this fluttering, fuzzy feeling in his stomach – something he hasn't felt for a very long time. Shit, this isn't good. Not at all. He's returned to Tokyo only a couple of weeks ago, after five years and six months living and working in Kushiro. Although being one of the bigger cities on Hokkaido, Kushiro still feels more like a village. A very traditional, secluded village with a society's mind stuck in 1950. Grimmjow's unmissable appearance and the fact that his teammates made no secret about their beliefs about gay team members had lead to a lean period. A very dry lean period obviously, because one of the first things he's doing upon being back in modern civilisation is falling for a tattoo-artist he does not even know the name of. His irritation must be written all over his face because the guy slowly pulls back his fingers and hands.

"Second thoughts?", he asks, and there is no sign of accusation or complaint in that thick and smoky voice.

And maybe it's this question, or the tone he uses, or the fact Grimmjow truly hasn't had sex for quite some time, or the reason that after five and half years there finally is no longer a reason to hide his sexuality, or the tiny detail he truly is as horny as fuck, but he's reaching out and stops the guy's hand from leaving his skin. 

This time it's him leaning into the other and in a bold move, his free hand grabs for the other's crotch. He hums approving upon finding a promising hard and thick rod twitching in his palm.

"I see, no problem getting it up in time," he purrs lowly, slightly leaning his forehead on the guy's stiff shoulder. Who wouldn't stiffen up upon suddenly getting his most delicate parts manhandled? Grimmjow grins satisfied and turns his head to the side. His lips are almost in reach of a soft neck and throbbing vein, but instead, he just whispers huskily: "So, what about your stamina, old man?".

A light, short laughter escapes the dark-haired man, and he relaxes into Grimmjow's touch. 

"Think you've got enough for a marathon, youngster?", he snickers and pushes him back. Grimmjow let go of his hold and leans back on his arms, a challenging glint in his eyes and an almost madly looking grin on his lips. He rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically.

"Got anything else than sports allusions?"

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of something larger I’m working on, therefore it’s out of context and does not make sense - but it’s 50 sentences long, sooo ....


End file.
